


Any Kiss Worth a Damn

by Sadisticsparkle (sadisticsparkle)



Category: Marvel 616
Genre: Avengers Vol. 1 (1963), Cap_Ironman Reverse Bang Challenge, Getting Together, Identity Porn, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nomad Steve Rogers, POV Tony Stark, Pepper Potts & Tony Stark Friendship, Red String of Fate, Secret Identity, Soulmates, Tony Stark needs a nap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:15:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24122695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadisticsparkle/pseuds/Sadisticsparkle
Summary: That’s when Tony saw it, dripping out of his hand, red, bright red.Blood? That… No. It wasn’t blood and those were the good news. The bad news was that he didn’t know what the hell was going on.He brought his hand closer to his face. A sliver of red light went out of his pinkie finger, out of his balcony and into the night.---Across the city, the Nomad looked at his hand and saw a shiny and incorporeal string that led him to... something. Without a doubt, he jumped to the roof and followed it.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 46
Kudos: 166
Collections: Captain America/Iron Man Reverse Bang 2020





	1. Trouble will find me

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [[Art] String Of Fate](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24109531) by [Cathalinaheart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cathalinaheart/pseuds/Cathalinaheart). 



> This fic is part of Team Confession for the 2020 Cap-IM RBB event, alongside Cat's art [ String of Fate](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24109531) and clumsykitty's fic [Tie a Red Threat Around my Heart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24119866) . 
> 
> Thank you so much, Cat, for your great art! It was truly inspiring and led me to write my first early canon fic. \o/ Thanks to Lau, Fu and vicspeaks, who did a great job pointing out where this fic worked and where it needed a bit more polish.
> 
> Fic is set during the Nomad arc, with timelines a bit fuzzy but generally respecting canon.

One of the things Tony hated the most about being a superhero, aside from the injuries and lying to everybody he cared about, was that he was never able to mind his own business. If he was driving to his office during rush hour and he saw a colorfully attired man screaming in the middle of the street, he couldn’t ignore it, especially if said man was surrounded by cops. It didn’t matter if his mind was thrumming with thoughts about recovering from heart surgery or Captain America quitting or his best friend kissing him out of nowhere.

No, that could not distract him from his job description as a superhero: to meddle. No matter what, he’d have to park his car, run into an alley, change into the armor, fly up, fly down, land in an impressive way and let his metal face do the talking.

This particular time, his metal face was eloquent enough to make the ranting man turn around with a swish of his red cape. If Tony had to guess, the guy was a wizard, demon, warlock, or ancient god. The cape was the giveaway. They always meant magic and mysticism — mad scientists and cat burglars knew better than to wear them because the damn things always made people trip. The style upgrade wasn’t worth the hassle. If he also took into account the horns and the grimace, it was obvious the man was up to no good.

“Iron Man! Sent to destroy me!”

“Not really. I don’t even know who you are,” Tony said, walking towards the guy with all the heavy aplomb Iron Man was known for.

“Blatant lies! It’s me, Kaballa, Master of the Elements! You will not foil my plans!”

A chorus of groans spread across the cops. There was such a lack of tension that rather than a stand-off, it looked like a normal morning at the precinct. They hadn’t even drawn out their guns — instead, they were lounging against their patrol cars, drinking coffee, acting as if seeing a madman ranting about the elements and magic and foiling was an everyday occurrence.

Which, granted, in New York, it was.

“Whatever they are, yes, I will foil them.”

“Do you seek control over the Golem too?!”

“I don’t even know what that is, but I don’t think I should let you have it, no.”

“I can smell the foul stench of your lies, Iron Man! Your boss has sent you here, to stop me! He wants control over the Golem! He wants even more power! I will not let him!”

Tony sighed and let him rant — there was no stopping bad guys when they started. Oh, what he’d give for _one_ , just one, villain who knew how to speak with an indoor voice. Villanous ranting always triggered his headaches.

“I won’t be so easily defeated this time! I now command the most powerful of all elements! The deepest of magic! More nourishing than water, more ardent than fire! As grounding as the earth, as elevating as air!”

Kaballa, whoever he was, cackled — because the red costume with horns wasn’t enough signaling of his villainy — and did a series of very complicated hand gestures, like some demented shadow play. Of course, as soon as he stopped, a swirling spiral of bright red lights surrounded Tony, closing in on him, and then there was… nothing. No paralysis, no amnesia, not even a headache. The cops were still there, time hadn’t stopped, nobody had turned into a frog. Tony crossed his arms over his chest.

It was time to end this farce.

“Thanks for the fireworks. Is that all?”

“Why! Why are you still… You are supposed to be cursed!”

“Oh, then that’s why it’s failed — I already have pretty rotten luck.”

“This is impossible! The Curse of the Bleeding Heart! I performed it according to the book! Why hasn’t it worked?! After all the time I spent practicing!”

Tony almost felt sorry for the guy, but he had made him late for work and he was prejudiced against wizards and their drama. Everybody would have been happier if Kaballa had chosen to be a character actor on overcooked melodramas in regional circuits. He knew what he had to do to end this quickly. Yep. That was going to be his plan. Without any warning nor witty one-liner, he rushed towards the wizard and pushed him against one of the patrol cars. There was a thud, a dent and then the man fell into a heap, unconscious and blessedly quiet.

The cop in the patrol car didn’t even blink and took another sip of his coffee. Tony had made it an easy morning for them. The least they could do was handle the clean-up all on their own because Tony didn’t have the time to deal with it. If he flew to his office and avoided the traffic that way, he’d get there on time and wouldn’t miss his first meeting of the day. He’d send somebody to pick up the car later.

“Thank you, Iron Man!” one of the cops said, with a cheerful little wave, when Tony took off.

Thank yous were good, but Tony would have preferred a day off.

Which he didn't get, because while Iron Man hadn’t been needed the rest of the day, Tony Stark had spent the entire day caged in his office. The battle hadn’t been the most grueling part of his day — that honor belonged to an accounting snafu that had taken hours to straighten out, even with Pepper’s help and the entire Accounting Department quivering under her stern guidance. Not only was it already too late for dinner by the time he got back to his apartment, but on top of that, his muscles were stiff, a tension headache was brewing in his head and his stomach kept rumbling. He walked straight to his bedroom without turning the lights on and took off his suit in the dark, as carefully as he’d take off the armor. He threw it in the laundry hamper and made a mental note of having it dry cleaned. It smelled like stale office coffee, egg salad sandwich, and sweat.

But at least the weight of the day had slid off his shoulders. And now… now he was free of the chest plate’s weight too. His heart was working, a miracle of futuristic medicine. He had to appreciate it better, take better care of himself if the world allowed him a break. He groaned when he craned his neck and stretched out his muscles. He needed to relax but there was always so much work — Stark Industries kept expanding internationally, there was Avengers business he had to attend to, some new ideas for the armor he wanted to work on… There weren’t enough hours in the day. He couldn’t go to sleep, not yet. He’d have a shower, reheat yesterday’s leftovers, check the armor for any damage and then go through the Avengers’ meeting minutes…

The Avengers. He had missed the early days lately — ever since Cap had called it quits. He had never thought Steve was capable of it, but the whole thing with being accused of murder and then the Secret Empire had affected him more than anybody had expected at the time. He was always so strong, so sure of himself — who could have thought he could be doubtful too, that even his strong principles could be shaken? Now Cap was gone and that absence had reminded him of that early team, so small and so fragile.

All of that had vanished and these days, he never knew who he’d find at the Mansion if he found anybody at all. It wasn’t surprising. Everybody had their own lives to live and their own battles to fight, but still… It had been so warm and cozy, back then, and they had been so young and naive, so ready for everything and nothing at the same time. A blank canvas, which they had filled with their fair share of laughter and more than their fair share of tears. They had fumbled their way in the dark, learning how to work together, how to be superheroes, and how to be themselves.

He let the hot water of the shower hit him straight in the face and sighed. His muscles still ached and there was a spike of pain embedded between his eyebrows. Was that the Curse of the Bleeding Heart? A migraine? Too bad for poor Kaballa — he always got those. Came with the stress. At least with Pepper back, he knew he had somebody to lean on… and even that was shaky now, what with Pepper kissing and Happy catching them and Happy punching him… He had to stop thinking about it. There was nothing he could do, no magic advice he could give them or genius solution he could come up with. Pepper and Happy had to figure out their problems on their own.

He dried off his head with his fluffiest towel and threw himself naked in his bed. Staring at his chest still held some novelty, even if nobody else had done it yet. He hadn’t found the time to go out to throw his charisma around, act like the playboy the tabloids he thought he was, and bring home somebody only interested in telling their friends they’d banged Tony Stark. Yeah. No time and no energy for _that_. What he could do instead was picture somebody kneeling between his legs, the bulk of their body weighing down the mattress. A strong, big hand splayed in the middle of his chest. He closed his eyes and ran his own hand down his sternum and past his navel. He slid his thumb down the length of his dick until he hit the slit. He pinched the head of his cock and moaned. Fuck. That was more like it. With his free hand, he twisted one of his nipples and imagined a low, deep laughter next to his ear and the tickling breath of somebody very warm giving him goosebumps. His throat went dry and he bit down his lip like he liked people to do when they kissed him. His dick was hard now, demanding some attention, leaking already because he was that desperate for touch — he covered it with his hand and squeezed, this side of painful. He fucked his fist, his hips raising away from the bed, his eyes shut, blurring the face that was flooding his fantasies. A moan escaped his mouth and he focused on the sensations, on the pain, the pressure, the softness of the bed. Anything but the voice he was hearing in his head. And then his mind, his body, everything was hit with a tingling wave of pleasure and he knew he was on the edge, so he let himself indulge, he let himself picture an achingly intimate smile, the caress of familiar lips on his cheek, and he came, arching his back and refusing to call out the name every last nerve of his body was yearning for.

He opened his eyes and he let his hands fall off to the sides of his body. His muscles were relaxed and his headache was subsiding. He set a foot on the floor. Right. He had to go warm his leftovers. He set down the other foot and pushed himself up from the bed.

That’s when he saw it, dripping out of his hand, red, bright red.

Blood? That… No. It wasn’t blood and those were the good news. The bad news was that he didn’t know what the hell was going on.

He brought his hand closer to his face. A sliver of red light went out of his pinkie finger, out of his balcony and into the night, like a shiny and incorporeal thread. A trap? Perhaps a message from somebody. Or was he hallucinating or under a delusion? There were no injuries and no pain, at least, so he took a deep breath and tried to calm down. Fine. Unknown phenomenon. He had to be methodical about it. First, run some tests on it. Eliminate the possibilities. Had it been the wizard? Did that mean it was _magic_? He had never been good at that. Too complicated, too unpredictable, too annoying. Science was a kinder master or at least a master that made sense. Sometimes.

He warmed up his leftovers first — couldn’t do science on an empty stomach — and then rushed to the workshop, dinner on a plate. He ran some preliminary tests — and damn, it wasn’t any type of known energy. In fact, his equipment couldn’t even pick it up. Definitely magic, then. And magic meant that he wasn’t the expert in the room. Fuck. He would have to call in the wizards. Strange, maybe? Or… the Richards’ nanny… wasn’t she a powerful witch, powerful enough they trusted her to protect Franklin? With her gray hair, thunderous gaze, and old-fashioned clothes, she certainly looked the part. Sue would be furious if he woke up Franklin, but that was avoidable. He’d call the lab directly — he bet Reed was still awake, absorbed in some new project. No matter what, he didn’t want to lose any more time. If this… spell was something bad, all his experience with magic told him he needed to get it fixed it as soon as possible.

He didn’t have to wait long before Reed picked up the phone. Yup. Reed was still up, working on some device that would break the law of physics or a new toy for Franklin or both.

“Iron Man? Has something…?”

“Yes. I need to talk to your nanny.”

Reed didn’t even miss a beat. Being a superhero meant that sometimes, people called your nanny in the middle of the night and all you could do was roll with it.

“Oh, that type of something. Give me a second, Iron Man.”

He chewed down the last remaining bits of his dinner — week-old Chinese take-out, not his favorite — while he waited for Agatha Harkness to come to the phone.

“This is Agatha Harkness.” The impervious and carefully enunciated voice reminded Tony of an old dance teacher from his childhood. “Why are you calling?”

“Magic. My boss was hit with a spell and now there’s… red light, like a thread, coming out of his finger.”

“A thread of red light? Would that be coming from his pinkie finger?”

“Pretty sure it is, yes,” Tony said, staring at his hand. He hadn’t stared this much at his hand since that one time in college he had done mushrooms.

She made a non-committal yet concerned noise.

“Is it something bad?”

“I can’t give you an answer, not yet. I will visit your boss in the morning,” she said and hung up.

Laying on his bed, before drifting off to sleep, Tony decided that the only that he hated more than magic was witches.

Dawn had barely broken when a loud knock on his door startled Tony out of his dreams (not bad dreams; confusing ones, about rope and blood and clear eyes). He sat up on the bed, his sheets bundled around his hips. Nobody was ever that early, at least nobody Tony Stark knew. Iron Man’s friends, on the other hand, were bound to knock on his door at any time of the day, which meant this was about his new predicament. Couldn’t be helped then. He dragged himself out of bed, giving its warm softness one last mournful look. He grabbed his robe from the floor, put it on, and walked out of his room, still sleepy.

The sun hit his eyes the minute he stepped into his room so he didn’t see her at first. When he did, any trace of the sleepy fogginess in his head evaporated — because Agatha Harkness wasn’t outside his door, she was sitting on his sofa, with her back straight and drinking some tea. (Did he even own a teacup?)

How rude.

“Well. Wasn’t expecting this.”

“Tony Stark. I have determined what ails you.”

Straight to business, then. He could respect that. Definitely preferred it over the standard wizard procedure of talking in circles, avoiding any clarification, and using excessive metaphors.

“And?” he said, sauntering to his kitchen. If he was going to discuss magic matters so early in the morning, at least he was going to be drinking some coffee while he did it. He took his favorite mug — the biggest one he owned, a gift from Steve on the occasion of the Avengers’ first Christmas together — and filled it up to the brim. Yes. That’d be enough.

(Lies. It’d never be enough.)

He decided against sitting close to her. He didn’t want to risk offending her, so he tightened his robe around his waist and chose the sofa opposite her.

“It’s… not exactly a curse,” she said after he sat down.

“Then it’s just a spell?”

“Yes, it’s a spell, but I wouldn’t say it’s _just_ a spell.” She took another sip of her tea. “Tell me, Mr. Stark, have you ever heard of the Red String of Fate?”

“No, but it sounds ominous.”

“It’s not. In some cultures, it is said there is an invisible thread tethering each one of us to the person we’re destined to love. To our soulmate, one might say.”

He snorted. Magic, all right. “Like I said, _ominous_.”

She didn’t pay him any attention.

“Once the target of the spell thinks of… love matters, this thread is unveiled, even for those of you without a knowledge of the mystical arts. It reveals the path to the affected party’s destined happiness. And this is no laughing matter, Mr. Stark. Archaic magic like this is hard to harness and harder to resist.”

“Is that why they call it a curse?”

She stared out of the picture window then. Outside, the sky was bright blue and there were no clouds on the horizon, even if it was a bit cold. If it hadn’t been for the witch in his living room, Tony would have had breakfast on his balcony, basking in the sunlight of a clear sunny morning and the deep, rich flavor of his coffee.

“Some say that the reveal siphons the mystery out of fate’s workings and without mystery, without the thrill of discovery pushing us to unknown places, there can be no falling in love,” she said, without turning back to Tony. ”Others insist the spell only works if there is despair in the couple’s entwined future. So the Red Thread, in that case, would only lead them to their doom.”

That sounded more like his life. “Will it go away? Or cause any problems?”

“It won’t cause any problems or hurt you in any way, other than maybe exciting your curiosity about who it leads you to…” she said with a smile, as inscrutable as a witch could be. “As for its vanishing, that will only happen if you meet that person and give them your name. But it’ll reappear eventually unless you join your life to them.”

There was only one thing he could say to that.

“Damn.”

She arched her eyebrows. “I will search for a way to sever it, if you’d prefer that.”

“ _Of course_ I’d prefer that.”

“Then, If I find any new information, I’ll contact you. Please avoid calling the Baxter building so late again, it disrupts Franklin’s sleep.” She stood up, leaving the teacup on his coffee table. “Don’t worry, I know where the door is.”

He kept his eyes on her, but this time she opened the door and walked out into the hallway like a normal person. He didn’t check whether she disappeared right after the door closed. Some things were better left unknown.

Like… fate. Love. Destiny. _Soulmates._ How ridiculous could his life get? There was only one path open for him: to ignore the blinking light trickling from his finger. He had better things to do — the Avengers meeting minutes still had to be approved, Stark Industries still needed its CEO, the armor still needed repairs. There was no space in his life for silly mysticism. He’d go to SI, then work on his armor. The Avengers minutes, he’d leave that for last. There were going to be a mess — untidy, unclear, unfinished. He missed Cap’s detailed, yet clear minutes. He had always been tidy and punctual with paperwork, unlike most Avengers. And now Cap was… gone. Well, Steve Rogers was still there, but there was no longer a Captain America and the world was worse for it. He needed to check up on Steve soon. Even if he wasn’t Captain America anymore, that didn’t mean they had stopped being friends, did it?

But first, he had a company to run.

Stark Industries’ headquarters turned silent as employees trickled out. He was the last one left his office, like most nights. Outside, on the street, people were talking loudly, laughing, planning to grab a beer, or hit a nightclub. Tony wished he had time for that or that he had at least somebody to talk to. Pepper had left early, but Tony couldn’t blame her — and like clockwork, his thoughts turned back to their kiss. It hadn’t been romantic, just an ill-advised moment of comfort between friends. Pepper would always remain the one that got away, but he knew by now that they’d never work out. She was more important to him as a loyal friend who’d always have his back. He didn’t have many of those and now that Happy was that angry, he probably had one less.

He played with the cuff of his shirt, idly, and his eyes laid on the shining light trickling from his hand.

There was no reason not to follow the thread. The worst that could happen was finding a soulmate at the end of it. Which wouldn’t happen, because even if soulmates weren’t just a comforting myth for lonely people, Tony Stark wouldn’t get to have one. But he was still curious and suspicious in equal measure. He knew supervillains and sometimes what looked like gross incompetence was, in fact, a cleverly disguised nefarious plan. And as all his experience could show, the only way of finding out if such plan existed was, of course, to play along. So he didn’t have any choice but wait until he was done in the office and then put on the armor.

He flew, following the thread across rooftops with New York sprawled below him, a chaos of car horns, lights and screams. But from up above, all that chaos became the veins of the city, pulsing with unstoppable life. The thread didn’t leave the city, at least, and he found his quarry quickly. His ‘soulmate’ was jumping between buildings, in what seemed to be the direction of Tony’s own apartment. He stayed away from his prey. It’d be better if whoever it was met with Tony Stark rather than with Iron Man. If Iron Man was the target of the spell and whatever plan it entailed, showing up as Tony Stark instead would confuse whoever was behind it all. Pushing his armor to its limits, he beat his mysterious paramour to his home. He had enough time to change out of the armor and into his pajamas and robe — one of his most ostentatious ones and one that flattered him, if he was allowed to say so himself. He stood in the middle of his living room and wondered how to set the scene. His eyes were drawn to the balcony. Yes. That would work. He sauntered outside and settled against the rail of the balcony, elegant and charming, but casually enough it looked as if he didn’t know what was going to happen.

It wasn’t long before somebody landed in front of him, with a graceful somersault. It was his soulmate alright — the thread ended in the stranger’s pinkie finger. It shone brighter now that they were closer and the man was bathed in its red light, silent and unmoving, a good six feet away from Tony. Tony studied him — he was tall. Strong. Muscled. _Incredibly hot_. His blond hair was flying in the wind, and his jawline reminded him of Robert Redford. Was that…? No, it couldn’t be. Cap would never wear a cape and he’d never wear… damn. That neckline was certainly something.

“Hello,” Tony said, breaking the stand-off. “I hope you’re not planning to rob my house.”

That finally startled the man out of his silence. “No! I would never, I was… I only followed this,” he said, raising his hand.

“Oh, you’ve noticed the thread, then?”

“Kind of hard to miss. It showed up this morning and I had to find out where it led.”

“And you found… me.”

“Wasn’t expecting to, but yeah.”

“Well, I like being a surprise. Pleasant one, I hope.”

“Very,” said the man, taking one step towards Tony.

Tony wasn’t surprised by the answer. What would be better than finding out that your soulmate was a handsome, rich celebrity? Maybe the man would ask him for a loan or an invitation to the Avengers. Nobody would be interested in Tony Stark, himself, without the accouterments. It was a bit of lousy deal — yes, he’d get the money, the fame, the genius, but would have to deal with the man. Tony wasn’t sure he’d take that deal if he were in his soulmate’s shoes.

“Oh, you’ll change your mind soon...” Tony said and flashed a bright, devil-may-care smile. He didn’t want to give the man time to think up of a lie, to begin to weave a web of whispered compliments and honeyed words, so he kept talking. If he lied first, he’d be the winner in this conversation. “But don’t think I haven’t noticed that you have the advantage here. I don’t know your name yet.”

“Ah. I’m… the Nomad. New in town.”

Interesting name. Probably somebody who had just arrived in New York, trying to make it in the big city. Hopeful, naive, helpless, like so many before him.

Alone.

“Yes. Would have noticed you if you weren’t.” Like anybody with an interest in beefcake would. “I’m Tony Stark, but you already knew that. Everybody does”

The thread shimmered and disappeared. Damn. If Agatha Harkness was right about that, maybe she was right about the entire thing and Tony wasn't comfortable with that. The Nomad raised his hand, confused, and then walked closer to Tony. He reached for Tony’s hand but stopped himself in time. Up close, Tony could see the costume was a dark, shimmery blue, in a rich fabric tight enough he could see the outline of the man’s nipples. It was… carnal, sensual, but not lewd. The Nomad gave out such a heartfelt sincerity that even if he looked like a stripper, he looked like a _wholesome_ one.

“Why is it gone? I knew it was something magical but…” the Nomad said and then huffed. “Have you figured out how it works?”

“It _is_ magical, which accounts for how little sense it makes, and yes, I have figured it out, with a little bit of help from my bodyguard.”

“Iron Man,” the man said with a smile. A fanboy, then. That explained the interest in Tony Stark.

“Yes. That’s the guy. The thread… is supposed to be the Red String of Fate, a mystical tie to the person you’re destined to be with.”

Nomad frowned. “… and that’d be you?”

“Sorry for the disappointment.”

“No, that’s not it,” the man said, too quickly for it to be the truth. “I’m not disappointed. I’m surprised. I never expected…”

“A man?”

“No. That part… that’s not unexpected,” the man said and a blush crept from under his mask. So that was why there had been no disgust when he had said the word ‘destiny’. So far, the Red Thread had gotten Tony’s tastes right — the Nomad wouldn’t be the love of his life, but maybe Tony could get laid.

“We also don’t know if it’s real,” Tony pointed out.

“Ah. Yes. That’s also true. Does it even matter? It’s gone.”

“According to my sources, it’s because we exchanged names. Same sources said it’ll return if we don’t… join our lives.”

“And that means…”

“Didn’t ask… but I have some ideas.”

The Nomad’s blush deepened, but he took yet another determined step towards Tony. He leaned against the rail, inches away from Tony. “Will it hurt or anything?”

 _Only if you ask it to hurt_. The thought was out there, taking up space in his brain — and lower — before Tony could tamp it down.

“Apparently not,” Tony said instead. “According to my informants, it’s not an evil spell.”

“Really? Then how did this happen? Was it on purpose?”

“I’d never dabble in magic on purpose, especially since I can get dates on my own. No. A villain attacked Iron Man this morning, during my commute. I was in my car nearby. The spell hit me instead because the wizard was an incompetent oaf.”

“Villains these days…” the Nomad said, shaking his head.

“You just joined the game, kid. Don’t act like an old man.”

“I might be... new, but I’ve heard stories.”

“From whom?”

The Nomad shrugged. “People.”

Yeah, that wasn’t suspicious at all. He’d have to ask around about this Nomad and figure out where he had come from and who he knew in the business. The good news was that superheroes were a gossipy bunch and supervillains were even worse, so it wouldn’t be hard to gather the information he wanted.

He could even start now.

“Why did you decide to do this?”

“What do you mean? Come and see you? I was curious, that’s all.”

Tony shook his head and pointed at the suit. “The superhero thing. I see one of them every day and I still don’t get it. What makes you take that kind of risk, over and over again, for little to no reward?”

The Nomad turned around and looked at the city. Tony looked at the Nomad instead, wondering what the man was seeing in the cacophonic tapestry of billboards, buildings, and cars. The lights of the city were reflected in his blue eyes and the cape, now that they were this close, didn’t hide how shapely his posterior was and how thick his thighs looked.

“People need help. I can help them. It’s as simple as that,” the Nomad finally said. The corners of his mouth curved up. “And I guess it’s fun too.”

“No tragic backstory, then? Thought all of you had one.”

“Does…” the Nomad said and then stopped. “Sorry, I can’t give everything away on the first date, soulmate or not.”

“Oh. Keeping the mystery alive. That’s a good strategy. Too bad my life’s too public for that.”

“I… I bet you have your secrets too.”

The Nomad leaned down towards Tony, but… Tony wasn’t going to fall for this so easily. He took a step back, and the guy’s smile crumbled into a pout. Damn. He was weak to that type of pout. (Cap always used it against Iron Man, without realizing it. Or at least Tony hoped he didn’t realize it.) He was at the edge of something that could be wondrous or dreadful. He couldn’t take the plunge yet, but he didn’t want to walk away from it either. The guy was pretty and he had nothing to lose. Nobody was going to be jealous or angry at Tony for doing this. So instead of jumping or running away, he stayed on the edge instead.

“Look, why don’t we meet again a week from now? See if the thread’s still there. Maybe we can discover each other’s secrets then.”

The man’s smile returned and Tony’s chest overflowed with satisfaction.

“I’d like that.”

“It’s a date then… but now, it’s late and I have an early day tomorrow.”

“You’re not the only busy man here, Mr. Stark,” the Nomad said, climbing on the rail.

“You can use the door, you know,” Tony said, and even if The Nomad had already jumped down to the next rooftop, Tony swore he could hear his laughter, ringing loud and clear into the night.


	2. I like trouble (no other possible explanation)

He tried to keep Nomad out of his mind, but how could he, when the guy was making one hell of an impression? He kept popping out in the news and the entire town couldn’t shut up about him. In the span of just a few days, he had been involved in fights across the city, defeated the new Serpent Squad, and rescued Roxxon Oil’s president from their grasp. And he wasn’t done with them yet — police radio was tittering with the news that the Nomad had somehow gotten involved in a stand-off between cops and what remained of the Serpent Squad. Cops weren’t being kind to the Nomad — they had called him a lot of names, none of them complimentary and most of them referencing disco somehow. At least the man’s flashiness made it really easy to track him down.

And Tony _would_ track him down — he had to help the newbie out. It was one of his duties as a pillar of the superhero community. Tony Stark bankrolled superheroes and Iron Man was always ready to lend a hand and to give sage advice. In exchange, he was always the first one to know all the hot gossip. He couldn’t stop wondering what Cap would say about the whole situation. Did he know about this novice superhero who was taking care of Cap’s enemies? Was he angry somebody had gotten to them first? Maybe he didn’t know about this new Serpent Squad. After all, this new Viper wasn’t the guy that had landed Steve in jail. He tried to picture Steve relieved that his enemies were being taken care of, but it didn’t fit Steve. He had always taken what he saw as his duty very seriously.

Even before landing, he could tell the stand-off was a tense one. Of course, stand-offs were as far as you could get from the quiet emptiness of a Zen monastery, but this particular one was worse than usual. A dozen or so patrol cars surrounded a shabby warehouse, guns at the ready, jaws clenched, and sweat on everybody’s foreheads. They were angry, the kind of angry that led to mistakes. In the middle of all of this, The Nomad was… well, he was handcuffed to the wheel of patrol car — now that was an interesting image he’d had to put aside for now —. Had he pissed off the cops that much or were the cops that on edge? Before things had a chance to get any worse, he landed in front of the patrol car the Nomad was tied to. He didn’t think that this was going to end well for the cops if they had to handle it on their own.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he said, staring at the cops.

“Oh, damn, another one,” one of the cops said, taking off his cap. “This is our job, not yours, so please, get lost!”

So authoritative distance hadn’t worked. He’d have to try a different approach.

“You know that we always trust in your ability to handle this type of situation and that, as an Avenger, I’d only intervene if it was strictly necessary. The Serpent Squad are no normal villains — let us handle it.”

A wave of whispers surged between the cops. Some stared at Nomad and Iron Man, but when a woman’s voice screaming about how life was a gamble and about nihilism and martyrdom came from the warehouse, everybody turned their eyes to it. The cops took their time before talking.

“Sure, suit yourself,” the oldest cop said after a while. Good. They were reasonable then. Next stop, releasing the Nomad and avoiding looking at the man’s generous pectorals.

“And what about the… man you got over there?”

“Who? Disco Redford? We have no idea who he is. Is he one of yours?”

If Tony got lucky, he’d be, but he couldn’t say that out loud. He turned to look at the Nomad and… well, that was the Nomad ripping off the wheel of the car with his bare hands — no way in hell he was a baseline human, then. Mutant, maybe? The man stood up and broke his handcuffs. All his muscles were covered with sweat now and Tony wanted to count them all, preferably with the Nomad naked and laying in his bed. And smiling just like he was smiling now, smug but with an edge of sweetness and trust. It was a very nice, wholesome smile, exactly the opposite of all the thoughts that were running through Tony’s head.

“Thank you, Sh… Iron Man. I wasn’t expecting you,” the Nomad said, getting even closer. If the Nomad ever visited Tony Stark again, this time he wouldn’t hesitate — he’d get him into his bed.

“My boss asked me to keep an eye on you. Seems to have taken an interest in you.”

“Oh. Just your boss?”

“Strictly professional in my case.”

He took a step back. He couldn’t betray himself, not before knowing if he could trust the Nomad. Iron Man would remain politely distant and Tony Stark could handle the wooing. He was good at that.

“I see,” the Nomad said, biting his lip. Tony wished he could be doing the same. “Then, in your professional opinion, what should we do now?”

“Well, my training and years of experience in the field, tell me that we should crash the Serpent Squad’s party if you agree?”

“Sounds like my idea of fun.”

“After you, then,” Tony said, with a flourish of his hand. The Nomad laughed and without even losing a beat, jumped on a pole — giving Tony a wonderful view of his perky, round buttocks. Thank God he had ditched the cape. Tony didn’t get what he was doing at first, but then the Nomad vaulted himself across the air and through one of the warehouse’s windows.

What a show-off.

By the time Iron Man landed inside the warehouse, there wasn’t much left of the Serpent Squad — they would have to rename themselves, to something like the Cobra Couplet. Said Cobra was curled up on the floor, ranting about Mr. Hyde and begging to be let go. What a mess. And the Viper… well, she wasn’t the same as the old one, that was for sure. She kept screaming about her cause and martyrdom and probably Communism — Tony had stopped paying attention to whatever the villain of the week was ranting about a long time ago —, but that wasn’t what grabbed Tony’s attention. He kept his eyes away from it, but all he could think about how even her plunging neckline and neon green jumpsuit was less risqué than the Nomad’s costume. Maybe he’d need to add a plunging neckline to the armor, if it was so in fashion. He had the abs for it and his chest looked good now. If the nose he was designing went down well, he’d consider it.

But that was for later because now there were more pressing matters. Even leaving aside the Serpent Squad, flames were creeping up the walls and smoke was filling up the warehouse. Every part of his engineer soul was sure that the building wouldn’t withstand a fire. They didn’t have much time but they had to…

“We need to get them out!” the Nomad said, reading his mind.

“No! I shall die for the Serpent Cause! We both shall!” the Viper said and pointed her gun at the Cobra. Without even glancing at each other, Tony lunged at him at the same time the Nomad jumped at the Viper. The Cobra fell to the floor with a heavy thud, pained but unhurt, and the Viper’s shot went wide. Damn. The Cobra hadn’t been killed but her shot had gone straight into a supporting beam. The roof wouldn’t… yeah, he knew what that rumble meant. There wasn’t time to lose — he leaped and knocked the Nomad to the floor, covering him with Iron Man’s body.

Then the building fell on top of him.

He closed his eyes. Gritted his teeth. Kept his mind off the burning sensation in his back muscles. He’d manage. The armor would handle it, protect him and the Nomad. He was okay. Pale, covered in dust, but Tony couldn’t see any blood.

“Iron Man…”

“You okay, Nomad?”

The Nomad nodded. His blue eyes were wide and filled with tears. Probably the first time something like this happened to him — oh, what Tony wouldn’t give to be that innocent again. The Nomad raised his hand and put it on Iron Man’s cheek.

“Thank you, for this, but I…”

Before he could finish speaking, another wave of debris fell on top of Tony. He bit back a scream, ignored the sharp pain on his left side. His arms trembled. No. He couldn’t falter now… he had to protect Nomad. Tony’d be fine. A bit bruised or at worst some broken ribs. All he had to do was hold on. And he did hold on for some minutes or seconds or hours until the building stopped raining down on him. Mustering every drop of energy he had, he pushed his hands against the floor and stood up, inch by inch.

“Iron Man! You… you didn’t need to do this. Let me help.”

“No, I can handle this.” With one last effort, he managed to shake off all the debris of his back. It fell on the floor and Tony took a deep breath — lungs were okay, nothing hurt there —, finally back on his own two feet. Which were wobbly, but that’d go away quick. “Don’t worry. I’m a bit… tired, that’s all. I’ll be fine by tomorrow.”

“Please take better care of yourself.”

“Don’t worry, old Shellhead knows what he’s doing.”

He wasn’t going to argue about this with the Nomad, but the Nomad crossed his arms. His pectorals got pushed together and Tony’s mind surged with all kind of ideas about how tight that’d feel around his cock. No. Strictly professional now.

“Iron Man, this was…”

“Hey, newbie, this isn’t my first rodeo. I know my limits.”

Near them, the Cobra moaned and Tony was secretly grateful he wouldn’t have to keep defending his decisions to a guy who didn’t know what he was doing. Hot or not, the Nomad hadn’t earned the right to chew Iron Man out. Very few people had and none of them were there.

“Wait, he’s alive?”

“Where’s the Viper?” Tony asked, but there was no sign of her.

“Gone,” Nomad said while he grabbed the Cobra like he weighed nothing. He started walking out of the warehouse. “I’ll take care of this. Just… tell your boss he has to remember his appointment and don’t let more buildings fall on top of you.”

Well, that simplified things. He had time to get a shower before going to his office. The pain wouldn’t be much a problem — he was used to working through it.

“Don’t worry, my boss is not the type of man to skip out on a date,” he said, before taking off.

And go figure, the blush did go down the navel.

The weather was miserable — rainy, cold, humid, gray — but it was at least better than Pepper’s mood. She had spent the morning slamming drawers shut and fixing up her desk non-stop. He could handle that, but it wasn't the only thing. It hadn’t mattered whether it was Tony himself or the guy who brought their mail — she had barked at everybody for everything. That wasn’t like her. Most days, she was an upbeat cardinal whirring about the office, but right now she was more like a stompy, indignant goose bent on making everybody’s day a terrible one. If Happy didn’t make things right soon, Tony would have to send her on a vacation somewhere warm and sunny before she murdered somebody with a ballpoint pen. Probably Tony himself, considering his luck.

He tried to focus on a business proposal from their Manila office, but how could he, when she kept tapping on the floor with her foot, loud enough he could hear it through the closed door? He shut the folder, slammed it on the desk, and looked at his watch. 11:57 AM. Fine. He’d take her out to lunch, somewhere nice and quiet, and hope that’d relax her a bit. If it didn’t work, he was sending her back home for the day.

She stormed into the office then, carrying a stack of paperwork almost as tall as herself. Without much ceremony, she dumped it on Tony’s desk. The whole thing shook and Tony caught his coffee mug before it fell off the edge. Good. He loved that mug so much he carried it between his apartment and his office every day.

“Well, thank you. I’ll get this done quickly and then what about lunch?”

She huffed and leaned on the desk. “You won’t distract me, Tony,” she said, squinting her eyes.

“Distract you?” He weighed the chances he’d get punched if he mentioned her bad mood. “I was planning on that, yes, but if you’d rather stay here in a foul mood…”

“You know that’s not what I mean! You’re… so happy this morning, Sprinting like a young girl at a church picnic. Why are you so smiley all of a sudden?”

That was the downside of having Pepper back — she knew him like few people did, and that meant his secrets were in danger. Not ones like being Iron Man, but the ones that actually mattered. He leaned back on his chair and raised his hands, hoping she’d buy his innocent face.

“Me? I don’t know what you’re talking about, Pepper. I’m as smiley as ever.”

“Yes, you smile all the time but these are real smiles! Is it…?”

“Nothing’s happening, Pepper. Do you want to grab lunch? I have to go to Avengers Mansion In the afternoon — tons of paperwork to do — and I’d need you to…”

“You can lie to other people, but not to me, Tony Stark. Is it a new girl?” He tried to hide his smile and failed miserably. She started smiling then too, her bad mood melting away like snow in the spring. “I knew it! What’s her name?”

“That’s… there’s no girl.”

“Sure, of course, no girl.” She crossed her arms and leaned on the side of his desk. “I’ll let you off the hook this time. But, Tony… if there was a girl and I know there isn’t, but if there was a hypothetical girl, you’d go after her, right? There’s nothing better than having somebody by your side.”

Tony put his hand on top of Pepper’s. “Pep… he’ll come around. I know it.”

“I sure hope so, Tony,” she said, looking at the gray sky outside. In rainy weather, her hair lost some of its shine, just like her smile lost some of its luster without Happy. “But I have to get back to work and you have to get this signed.”

That was his Pepper. No matter how sad or lonely, she knew what she had to do and she was going to do it. She walked towards the door — walked, not stomped — but before leaving, she turned around, a smirk in her face.

“I’m not letting go of this. I’ll figure out who you’re smiling about. _And_ you’re still paying for lunch!”

Tony loved the Avengers. He really, really did. But sometimes, especially when he was stuck with stacks of things to sign and memos to read and expenses to approve, he wondered why he hadn't thought of the paperwork when deciding to fund them. Back then, he had been, too enamored with his fellow superheroes, too fascinated by the gods and legends around him. He had been focusing on the other possibilities — building equipment for his fellow heroes, fighting the bad guys, Captain America sleeping in a house he owned, miraculously alive. Still, now that he was flooded with it… damn, was it boring.

And on top of that, it was always awkward to visit the Mansion as Tony Stark, benefactor, and not Iron Man, superhero. It made him wish he didn’t have a secret identity, despite knowing how risky that’d be. He was good enough at it that he never lost track of what Iron Man knew or how he was supposed to sound. People, even people who knew both of them, regarded them as two completely different men. One of them a debonair billionaire, the other an upright superhero. Some people, like Pepper, thought Iron Man was an unfeeling bastard, and Tony, a close friend, always ready in times of need. Others were pleasantly distant from Tony and considered Iron Man a brother. But on his side, he couldn’t keep his own feelings separate. Even when he was charming, yet cold Tony Stark, he longed to treat the Avengers as his friends.

And _this_ is why he hated busywork — his brain got stuck on things that couldn’t be fixed because it had nothing else to concentrate on. He forced his attention back to the paperwork. It took him a few hours, but then he was done. All expenses approved, all reports read, all equipment requests filed. He stretched on his chair and heard all the kinks in his lower back uncoil. Whatever — he deserved a reward. He was going to sink in his favorite sofa in the library and nap there. He’d sleep and dream about… Well. About things. He wouldn’t have nightmares, not in the Mansion. The place was always a salve, a welcome respite from the rush that was his life, even when it was attacked by villains or full of melodramatic superheroes. No matter what, It felt like home — more than it had when he had been a child.

“Oh, sorry!”

He sat up on the sofa, rubbing his eyes. He didn’t remember what was he dreaming about but it had been nice and then… then somebody had knocked on the open door. Right. Door. He looked at it and saw Steve, wearing his civvies, standing there with an embarrassed expression.

“W… welcome. I wasn’t expecting you… well, I wasn’t expecting anybody, truth to be told,” he said. He had to act distant, even if all he wanted was to jump into Steve’s arms and hug him until Steve couldn’t breathe. But he couldn’t — that wasn’t the type of relationship Tony and Cap had. And anyway, Steve probably wanted to see Iron Man or any other of the Avengers.

It had been a while. The last time Iron Man and Cap had met… well, it had been that whole mess with the Secret Empire. They hadn’t seen each other again after that and he couldn’t even remember the last time _Tony_ had seen Cap. No. Now it was Steve Rogers, not Cap. Cap was gone — Tony hadn’t even thought that was possible. And now, looking at Steve standing with his back straight and his shiny smile that made people want to become upright citizens, he couldn’t help but think that Steve was kidding himself. He’d be back in the stars and stripes in no time because he’d always be Cap, no matter what. It wasn’t the shield or the costume or even the name. It was the earnest way Steve faced his problems and his unwavering commitment to ideals bigger than himself.

“Hi, Mr. Stark. Can I ask you if…?”

“If Iron Man is around? Not right now, but I’m waiting for him.”

Steve shook his head and looked at the bookcases. Oh, maybe he had forgotten a book in the library. It happened all the time.

“No, I actually meant to ask if I could steal some of _your_ time.”

That was confusing. Did Steve want to get back into the Avengers? No, that couldn’t be it. That was the type of thing he’d discuss with Iron Man, not Tony, and he was technically retired anyway. Hm. Could Steve be needing money or a job? Tony Stark could help with that. But… even if Steve was here to ask for a favor, he didn’t mind. All he wanted was to spend time with him and bask in Steve’s sunniness, with or without the armor.

“Oh, sure, always. Something wrong with the Avengers?”

Steve shook his head again and walked to the sofa, with his eyes fixed somewhere above Tony’s head. “No, I… I thought maybe we could talk.”

Tony moved aside and let Steve sit next to him. Steve was smiling now, a small, shy smile. It was a sight for sore eyes and Tony wanted to stay like that forever. Just the two of them, in silence, their knees brushing against each other, forever out of reach. But he wasn’t Iron Man now. He was Tony Stark and sitting in silence would get awkward fast, wouldn’t it? He had to make some conversation, get Steve comfortable enough he’d ask whatever it was in his mind because Tony wasn’t buying the casual talk vibe. Steve was too nervous for that to be the case. He could seize the chance and ask what he had wanted to know since Steve had quit.

“How’s retirement treating you?” Steve shrugged, didn’t look at Tony, and said nothing. Okay. Tough case, but Tony had enough charisma to crack it open. “Boring, I take it?”

“Something like that.”

Steve crossed his arms and leaned back on the sofa, like a sullen kid. Tony didn’t probe further. Steve would talk when he was ready and Tony would give him space. The clock kept ticking. Time kept passing. None of them spoke. The air was crackling with … not electricity, not chemistry, just plain old awkwardness. He tapped his foot against the floor and that was when Steve sprung up from the sofa.

“Hm. Is Jarvis… is he here? Because… well, you know how Super Soldier appetite works,” he muttered, standing up from the sofa. Then he ran from the library without even saying goodbye.

Wow, that had been awkward — but Tony had the perfect solution to the situation tucked away in a suitcase behind the sofa.

Tony had had so much practice putting on the armor under time constraints, that by the time Steve had come back from the kitchen with a steaming cup of coffee, Iron Man was already waiting for him, sitting exactly where Tony had been sitting. The only difference was Steve’s attitude — gone were the pinched shoulders and the aside glances. Instead, his whole body relaxed and a smile blossomed in his face.

“Iron Man! Wait. Has Mr. Stark already left?”

“He was only here to give me my next assignment — some problem with a rival company. So nothing to worry about, Winghead,” Tony said, with a smile he hoped Steve could hear. And then Steve… pouted? About missing Tony? That was weird, but soon it was gone and Steve went back to being all smiles. “You know how busy he is. Something came up with a new patent and he had to go back to SI’s headquarters before it got out of hand.”

“I understand…” Steve said and sat down next to Iron Man. He took a sip of his coffee. “You know, I’m not Winghead anymore…”

“But I can still call you Winghead anyway, right? I think I’ve earned the right.”

Steve laughed, but his eyes remained fixed on the coffee cup. “… yeah, sure. When you do, it reminds me of being an Avenger, you know?”

“Wow, you’re already forgetting what it was like, old man? It wasn’t that long ago.”

“No, it’s just that with all the changes… Not being Cap is so new. I guess I’m confused.”

There were so many things Tony could have said. He remembered Steve, back when they had found him. It hadn’t mattered that they had rescued him — Steve had been still sinking. Captain America had been something Steve could grab onto to brave the wrathful sea. Tony understood the feeling, the need to grasp at something — anything — that would give you a purpose, a true North. And now Steve had lost that and was facing the world as himself, with no shield. He could have told Steve he was strong enough, that he’d find a new purpose, a new path in life. Or he could have told him that his place was with the Avengers, as a hero. That he couldn’t quit when the world still needed him, when Iron Man still needed him.

“You miss it, don’t you?” he said instead.

“… yeah, I guess I do. It’s not the same.”

Tony looked around them, to the books surrounding them, catering to the tastes of every Avenger, retired and active ones alike. The library was a graveyard of forgotten books that people left behind when they moved on. Traces of the people who had built the team, just like the pictures littered across the Mansion. Pictures of people laughing and posing heroically, of barbecues and meetings and press conferences. There were thunder marks on the carpets and tears on the furniture because one hero or another had used to strike a villain. And it wasn’t just the memories of a time already gone — it was the kitchen pantry, always ready to feed Asgardian gods and super-soldiers, and the comfortable beds people could always crash in. No matter what, any Avenger knew that if they rang the bell of the Mansion, Jarvis would open the door.

“There is something about this, isn’t there? Something that feels right.”

Steve raised his eyes to look at Iron Man. “It feels like _home_.”

“You’re always welcome here, Steve,” Tony said. He put his hand on Steve’s shoulders and squeezed it. “Captain America or not.”

“I know, Shellhead.” Steve’s smile was soft and private and Tony felt a surge of smugness. He wasn’t proud of it, but not everybody got to see Cap… Steve like that.

But no matter how much nostalgia they had and how at home they felt, Steve didn’t stay long enough for his coffee to cool down. This was their new normal — running into each other and trading a bit of gossip and some worrying rumors of the underworld, before saying goodbye and rushing back to their lives. He watched Steve hurry away and leave the Mansion, feeling like this would the last glimpse of Steve he’d ever see.

With nothing left to do in the Mansion, Tony could only do one thing: go back to his apartment. He was too tired for anything else and nightlife… that held little attraction to him now. It was always the same group of people pretending to have fun, trying to get their claws on him.

He flew back as Iron Man — flying had always helped him with his insomnia. It cleared his mind and made him focus on something other than himself. But it didn’t help, not that day. Even after putting on his pajamas and securing the armor in its suitcase, Tony didn’t want to sleep, not yet. Thoughts raced across his mind, about the company and Happy and Pepper, about Steve and the Nomad and the Avengers and the state of the world and all the things he couldn’t fix. He wandered around the empty rooms searching for distractions. Such expensive taste, such comfortable furniture and nobody to share it with. At least the view from his balcony was amazing. Instead of staring at the TV until he dozed off, he could enjoy the cool breeze and the patchwork of light and dark of the New York skyline. Was Steve still out there, fighting against bad guys, inspiring people to do better? He wouldn’t be able to resist it for long — he was too much of a hero and he got bored too easily.

When he stepped outside, he realized he wasn’t alone.

“Nomad,” he said without turning around. “Any more run-ins with snakes?”

“No. Just small-time crooks.” The warm chuckle and the quiet confidence in his voice made Tony shiver. There was something in the Nomad’s tone that echoed in his chest and made him feel safe.

“Oh, you’ve been working the streets?” Tony said, turning around and lounging on the balcony rail. He smirked when he saw that his tone, sultry with a hint of sleazy, had hit its target — Nomad had blushed radioactive red.

“Just… keeping an eye on things. Not everything needs the heavy touch of the Avengers.”

“You’re right, some things need a… subtler touch.” Which was exactly the opposite of what Tony was doing but it seemed to be working, so he wasn’t going to stop. He ogled Nomad’s entire body with no shame and no discretion and Nomad, instead of taking offense, took a step closer to him. “What about you? Do you prefer a light touch? Or are you into… rougher things?”

“Depends on my mood. And the company,” the Nomad said before taking the final step towards Tony. He was close enough Tony could see the hint of a smile, his curled eyelashes and the way his blond hair tousled over his forehead.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

They stood there for a minute or five or ten, Tony lost count. Neither of them dared break the spell of their lips almost touching and their gazes meeting each other under a night that would have been starry if it weren’t for the blinding lights of the city.

“Mr… Mr. Stark, I…” the Nomad whispered, oh so quietly.

“Call me Tony. We’re soulmates after all, aren’t we?”

“Yes, that… Dr. Strange, I talked to him. Said the spell came from Lemuria. They used it to... help lonely people find each other. And as far as he knows, it is legit and it works.”

That was two wizards saying the same thing. Tony hated it when they agreed, because it meant it was true.

“Then…” Tony said and leaned in.

The kiss was brief, barely there. More of a caress than a kiss, just a hint of what they could be together. They leaned away from each other and whatever trance they had been under collapsed into reality. The reality in which Tony didn’t know this man and where this man didn’t know who Tony was, not really. Tony needed time to think. Was the spell forcing them together, playing games with their minds? Or was it Tony’s loneliness?

“Mr… Tony. Please, I need more time to think.”

“I understand. Tomorrow. Same time, same place. Sounds good to you?”

Nomad nodded before jumping off Tony’s balcony on to the next rooftop — that couldn’t be safe —. Tony followed him with his gaze until he faded into the night, like a dream shattered at dawn. The Nomad was agile and strong. He’d make a fine superhero, even if he was too naive. Or was he? Maybe it was all a cover, a way of manipulating Tony into something. He was a rich, influential man. He had enemies. It could be a trap, a perfect one. Offering Tony everything he wanted — a loving partner who’d understand what being a superhero entailed and who didn’t know anything about his baggage. A partner who was exactly Tony’s type. It was too perfect to be real and yet he believed in it. Something in his bones told him he could trust somebody whose face he hadn’t even seen — like the Avengers trusted Iron Man. It bothered him, that certainty. People could accuse Tony Stark of being many things, but being cavalier with his trust wasn’t one of them.


	3. The trouble I'm looking for

It had been a routine morning. Wake up, stretch next to his bed, shower, breakfast and then his coffee mug — his _favorite_ coffee mug, chipped and cracked but the perfect size — had fallen off his kitchen island and shattered against the floor before Tony could even take a sip of his coffee. Tony had never believed in ill omens, but the dark stain covering his pristine white floor had looked like one. He had climbed into his car clinging to his armor suitcase, and then spent the entire ride to Stark Industries picturing all kinds of worst-case scenarios. Who could blame him? That was his life— one worst-case scenario after another.

The omen seemed to be fulfilled when, after an elevator ride waiting for the Titanium Man to crash into Stark Industries or for one of his exes to shoot him the minute he stepped into his office, he opened the door to his office and found Happy there. Damn. Happy’s bulk seemed to fill every inch of his office and he braced himself for another punch in the gut. But Happy... Happy was smiling and laughing and Pepper was with him, leaning her head on his shoulder. They were shining as bright as the neon signs on Broadway, and that could only have one explanation.

“You’re back together!”, Tony said. He left the suitcase on his desk and walked towards them.

“Well, yeah, boss, we straightened out our marital spat!” Happy said and squeezed Pepper closer to him. She laughed, light as the morning sun coming through the window, and let herself be squeezed.

“You see, Tony, Hap’s decided to also take your standing offer and come back to work for you.”

“If you’ll have me after I’ve been so pig-headed!”

Oh, if his broken mug was the price for this, it had been worth it. Happy back at his side. His friends back together. The company expanding and building outward to the world. How he could even say no? How could he hold a grudge against a man who had had his back when nobody else had? Happy had protected his secrets for years. Accepting him back was the least Tony could do for him.

“You’re hired, friend, at double whatever salary you were going to ask!”

Pepper jumped into Tony’s arms and instead of being angry, Happy just laughed again and shook Tony’s hand. Just with that, Tony’s world righted itself and the weight was lifted off his shoulders. Some bonds were so strong not even betrayal or anger could break them. Tony had never thought he’d get bonds like that.

“Well, I’ll go set up my office and let your personal secretary get back to work, Tony!” Happy said and then he walked towards the door, with a spring in his step and humming under his breath. Right at the door, he leaned in and gave Pepper a light kiss on the cheek. The bulk of him contrasted with her dainty figure, just as much as her vibrant red bob contrasted with his brown hair. Tony’s chest ached as if he still had his heart trouble. It wasn’t jealousy, because he didn’t want Pepper, not anymore. It was envy, bone-deep envy of what they had. Their history, their loyalty, the understanding below the difficulties. He wanted somebody who would always have his back. A partner that would stay by his side, no matter how much risks Tony took or how many secrets he hid. He wouldn’t mind it if they were pig-headed or jealous. All he wanted… he was tired of being alone.

He sat down at his desk — so clean, so organized since Pepper had been back — and let his weight rest on the chair. He couldn’t think about that… type of thing. He had too much to do and more important things to focus on. Pepper was hesitating at the door, one hand on the door handle. He looked at her, thanking whoever was in charge for letting him have Happy and Pepper in his life.

“Pepper…”

“Is this really okay with you?”

“My best friends are happy. That’s all I care about.”

She let go of the door handle and walked back into his office, letting the door close. Without speaking, not yet, she walked towards the window and stood there. The sun brought up all the bronze highlights in her short red bob and her green eyes shone like a cat’s. She fixed her gaze on him and the pity and compassion in her face made him want to hurl.

“Yes, we’re happy but… what about you? Are you happy, Tony?”

She had gone straight to the point, leaving Tony nowhere to hide. Was he happy? He knew he had no standing to complain about his life, especially now that Happy and Pepper were okay again, but this whole business with the spell had made him remember all the chances he had missed. Pepper. Marianne. Giuletta. Every time he grasped for something permanent, something that lasted, it slipped through his fingers. He couldn’t blame the universe for that. There was something wrong with him.

“Can I ask you something, Pep?”

“Whatever you want.”

“Why… why didn’t you give up on Happy? If marriage’s a battle, why didn’t you just surrender?”

“He’s… not the best guy, sometimes. He’s rash and insecure. He doesn’t change his mind easily,” she said, and tilted her head, frowned in concentration. “But he’s also loyal and hardworking. And so, so warm.”

“I know what a great guy he is when he’s not standing in his own way but… what made you choose him again?”

_Over me_ , he thought. People always chose other people over him.

“He’s… he feels like coming home and taking off your heels after a long day of work. Like a blooming garden in the spring or a late summer night.” Pepper stared out the window, her gaze focused somewhere far away from the office, somewhere beyond the confines of New York. “And despite everything, he believes in me, even if he doesn’t always gets me. He’s in it for the long haul.”

“So you’re sure of it. Of you two together.”

“Sure?” she laughed. “Oh, not at all. I’m always terrified. I don’t think loving somebody… I don’t think you ever feel sure of that, sure that they love you back and will always do so…. No, that’s not how it works, Tony.”

“But wouldn’t it be nice?” Tony said and his mind was full of red threads and the mysterious figures at the end of them. “To have somebody who completely understood you? To be sure they were the one?”

“It’d be nice, yes, but it’d be an illusion, don’t you think? Like a magician’s trick... Most of us don’t even understand ourselves, how could we even understand somebody else?” She shook her head. “No. What you’re saying… It wouldn’t be as true as choosing somebody despite the uncertainty. There’s something precious about risking your heart like that, letting somebody get his hooks on you and pray it’ll go alright.”

“Hm. It does sound more fun that way,” Tony said, closing his eyes.

“Of course you’d think that it’s _fun_ ,” she said and Tony knew she was rolling her eyes. “But, Tony…”

“Yes?”

He heard her heels against the wooden floor and then felt the warm weight of her hand on his shoulder.

“… you deserve somebody who wouldn’t give you up, no matter how hard the battle got.”

And what could he say to that? That he thought it was impossible? That he didn’t deserve it? No. She’d try to convince him all he had was try, so he just nodded and didn’t open his eyes until he knew she had leaned away from him. He wasn’t sure Pepper had believed him, but she left him to his thoughts anyway. In his mind, the blond at the end of the thread turned around and refused to admit whose face he was seeing. Some things were better left buried because the risk of letting them fester was less than the risk of bringing them to light. If he let himself think about it… A fling was one thing, but it was different when what you were risking was everything you were. Some people would get their hooks on you and tear you apart without meaning to. But… it didn’t mean he couldn’t find other people. People who wouldn’t get that kind of power over him.

Tony waited and waited, that night, for the Nomad. When it was time for their date, he sat on the comfiest of his lounge chairs out on his balcony and stared at the dark sky above him. Time passed and the Nomad still hadn’t shown up. Was he safe? Or had he been attacked, kidnapped, worse? It was one of the risks of the superhero business, but Tony didn’t want to entertain those thoughts. But if not that, what could be taking him so long, damn it? He still didn’t know what his answer would be, but at least he wanted to see the Nomad again. It was easy, talking to him, flirting with him. And Tony knew his charm had worked — he had seen how the Nomad had blushed and how he had flirted back. So why hadn’t he shown up? A change of heart? Wasn’t Tony even worth rejecting?

No. That couldn’t be it. The Nomad… there had been something there. Not a magical connection or a promise of eternal happiness, just normal, commonplace chemistry between two people lucky enough to have run into each other. Tony wanted to explore that. Even if it went badly, after so many missed chances, one more wouldn’t hurt.

So then, something else had happened. Something Iron Man could help with. So he knew what he had to do. He checked whether the Nomad had been spotted again and he wasn’t disappointed — the man, noticeable as ever, had been seen breaking and entering into an office building in Harlem. Hm. He probably had his reasons and if he didn’t, he was up to no good. Better Iron Man took a look and figured out what was going on. And Tony could satisfy his curiosity and yes, soothe his wounded pride.

With no time to lose, he put on the armor and flew towards the Nomad’s last known location. Buildings blurred past him and soon enough, he saw his quarry, sprinting across rooftops. Up ahead, there was a bird that was way too big to be a pigeon. It looked like a… falcon. Right. The Falcon, Cap’s partner, was involved in whatever was going on then. Did the Nomad know him too? Was superheroic New York that small of a town still? He kept following the Nomad and the bird because the whole set-up spelled trouble, the type of trouble a newbie like Nomad wasn’t ready for.

And trouble it was — when Tony saw the mangled body hanging from a chimney ahead of them, he almost fell out of the sky. It had been a man, but now it was a mess of broken angles, but what had stopped his heart wasn’t that. It was the torn blue uniform he had fixed so many times he could identify it in the darkest night and at a distance.

He rushed there — it couldn’t be. No. It didn’t make sense. Steve wasn’t… He couldn’t be. That couldn’t be his Captain America. He dared to look at it again and… that _wasn’t_ his Captain America. The hair was wrong, he wasn’t tall nor wide enough. For a weak, selfish moment, he felt relieved. He forced himself to look again, but he couldn’t recognize whoever it was. The dead man seemed… young — probably one of the pretenders to the title of Captain America that had mushroomed all over the city after Steve had quit. Another fool who thought that all you needed to be Captain America, to be a superhero, was the willingness to risk yourself. When Steve found out about it, he would hate it. He would feel guilty about it and blame himself. He needed to contact him and give him the news before he heard them through the superhero grapevine.

The Nomad screamed — a name, something like Roscoe — and then he jumped over behind the rooftop. Tony landed on the rooftop and avoided looking at the dead body. The Nomad was crouched over… yes, that was the Falcon, hurt and tied up. He walked to them, mustering all his superhero stubbornness to calm himself down. Seeing that dead man had… rattled him. He couldn’t stop thinking about Steve.

“Iron Man? Did you call the Avengers?” Falcon said. His voice trembled and he had trouble sitting up.

“Ah. No. I don’t know why he’s here,” Nomad said, turning to look at him. There was no surprise in neither voice nor his face.

“I saw trouble. Couldn’t stay away from it.”

“You never can.” The Nomad turned back to the Falcon. “What… what happened, Falcon?”

The Falcon tried to stand up, but he was too unsteady on his feet. Damn, somebody had done a number on him, probably the same guy who had attacked the dead man. Without a word, Nomad offered him his arm. The Falcon took it with no hesitation and let his weight rest on the Nomad’s shoulder. They were close, then. How come he had never heard of the Nomad before if he knew the Falcon?

“The Red Skull. He’s back, to… to get his revenge,” Falcon said.

“The Red Skull?! He was the one that killed Roscoe?!”

Behind the faceplate, Tony frowned. Yes. Steve needed to be informed of all of this. Captain America or not, he wouldn’t want to let the Skull get away with this. There was too much bad blood between them for Steve to let it go. He’d contact him. Maybe meet him in person.

Falcon stepped away from the Nomad and leaned against the chimney instead. He was looking a bit steadier now. “He wanted… he was furious he had wasted his greatest plan on a kid or something like that. He wants, well, he wants the real Cap.”

“He wants… me!” the Nomad said and suddenly everything made no sense and all the sense at the same time. Tony stood there, tongue-tied, blood rushing to his ears and his heart thumping in his chest. The Nomad. His soulmate. Steve. All one and the same. He didn’t know what to do, what to say, except be by his side. Steve’s whole body was trembling — and oh, now it was obvious it was Steve, it had always been Steve —, his chest heaving with hatred and guilt.

“I don’t want to be Captain America! Cap lived in a dream world and died when his ideals did — the Skull’s searching for a ghost. I’ll fight with him, but as the Nomad.”

“I’ll go with you,” Tony said, putting a hand on Steve’s shoulder. The tension eased out of Steve’s body. Steve looked at him and put his hand over Iron Man’s.

“No, Shellhead, you’ve already done enough. This is my own hatred to put an end to, a hatred I thought I had left buried in the Atlantic. So many years ago… When I went to war with his kind, I did it because they threatened the dream Captain America was created to protect.… and now… now the others who acted in the name of that dream are as bad as the Red Skull.”

Tony knew there was no arguing with that tone, so he remained silent and only squeezed Steve’s hand. He was sure that if anybody was capable of defeating the Red Skull, that was Steve.

Steve stepped away from Iron Man and his gaze focused on the street below them. People underneath them were unaware, living their own lives ignorant of all the danger around them. Tony envied them sometimes, but at the same time, he preferred knowing. He preferred fighting.

“I was so naive. I didn’t want to know about those people! I wanted to believe there were good guys and bad guys and that the American dream didn’t hold nightmares. I was… I was a failure. The country didn’t let me down, I did!”

Falcon and Iron Man glanced at each other — they knew what was coming.

“There has to be somebody who will fight for that dream. And I can’t let others run the risk!”

Steve walked towards the edge of the roof.

“So, what about the Nomad?” Tony asked.

“Everything I’ve learned as the Nomad will live on… only it’ll be as Captain America!”

And of course, then he jumped off the roof. Always the same old, reckless, impulsive Winghead.

His apartment was as empty as it had been when he left. Without even turning on the lights, he de-polarized the mesh and the armor softened around him. Tony began the process of taking it off, part by part. Such a mechanical, repetitive process — like breathing, like walking, like building a circuit board. Could he ever walk away from it? Leave on some dusty warehouse, and live only as Tony Stark? He stared at the uncaring, frozen expression of the faceplate. No. He’d never be able to, because shedding away Iron Man would mean walking away from the Avengers, from the respect Iron Man commanded, from duty and passion and atonement. He’d be free of Iron Man and trapped in Tony Stark.

He put it away in its suitcase, careful and delicate like the armor deserved, and changed into a shirt and slacks. He couldn’t go to bed yet, because his night wasn’t over yet. There still remained one watershed moment to survive, but why couldn’t the waiting last longer, perhaps forever? That way the illusion would never break and he could imagine a future with Steve, even if it never came. An eternal wait would be better than listening to Steve turn him down. He strolled to his balcony, strutting like a Hollywood starlet in Saint-Tropez. Sometimes he did that, parade around his apartment to an audience of silent furniture. The charade of confidence made the voices in his head shut up, for a while, before they began again. At least the city hadn’t fallen asleep yet and the sounds of the street distracted him from the litany of recrimination replaying in his mind. He leaned on the rail and wished nobody would come.

Like all his wishes, it didn’t come true. He recognized the sound of Steve landing behind him — how had he taken so long to realize? How long would he have indulged in denial? Now he had no option but to keep up the act right until the end — let Steve turn him down, keep his secret, pretend his heart wasn’t broken. He put on his best matinee idol smile and turned around. Instead of the Nomad, he saw Captain America, back in costume and back in action, the same as he ever was. Looking at him now, it was obvious Captain America and the Nomad were the same person — the silhouette, the hair, the eyes, the strong jaw, and, of course, that damn voice. He’d follow that voice everywhere.

He had never expected to be that much of a fool. Had he been that reluctant to believe Captain America could want him? Or had he been too distracted by the eye-candy?

“Hi, Cap,” he said, finally, when Steve’s silence became unbearable. “I’d say it’s nice to see you back, but Iron Man told me about what happened. I’m sorry about what happened.”

“Thank you, Tony.”

Tony looked past Steve’s shoulders and focused his gaze on his sofa. A few days ago, Agatha Harkness had sat there and told him soulmates were real, and Tony had been stupid enough to believe her, but Steve didn’t need to know that. They would get past this and then this would become just another adventure among many. That time Iron Man had believed Captain America could love him, like that time Loki had turned the street to candy.

“I wasn’t expecting you, though. Thought you’d be off fighting the Skull by now.”

“No, I had an appointment to keep before doing that.”

Oh, damn. Steve was going to tell him the truth — Tony had suspected it when he had shown up as Cap, but Steve’s whole body gave it away. His shoulders were squared and he was looking straight at Tony, preparing himself. Tony stayed still and silent, giving Steve space to make his decision. He didn’t want to make it even harder.

“I’m… the Nomad.”

He imagined it then — he could say yes, he could tell Steve he wanted to give it a try. Pretend he wasn’t Iron Man. Lie to Steve while they kissed, while they danced, while they made love. Steve would make him happy — and maybe Tony could make Steve happy too, at least for a while. Stranger things had happened and they were good friends already. Steve had always liked Mr. Stark and Tony… Tony knew Steve better than anybody.

As Iron Man.

It wouldn’t be fair to Steve, would it? It was one thing to pretend to be a close friend and a friendly boss, it was another thing entirely to pretend to be a lover and a brother-in-arms. He’d have to lie about his injuries, about what he did with his time, about his relationship with Iron Man. He’d have to control himself and never overstep as Iron Man, never kiss Steve in the armor, never tell him he loved him in the middle of a battle. No. That wasn’t going to work and, no matter how much he wanted to have Steve, he couldn’t do that to him.

But it wasn’t as if he was ready to tell Steve the truth either, which left him with only one option left. No matter how much it’d hurt him, he’d have to turn Steve down. It’d be safer that way.

“After all that happened, I kept thinking about… this whole thing with the thread spell and I have made a decision,” Steve said. He sounded so sure, always. So certain of what he had to do, of the decisions he made, even of his doubts. Tony never sounded like that — he could never be that committed to any belief because he could never stop wondering about the what-ifs, about other outcomes, about what else he could have done. Steve kept propelling forward, in an eternal present, while Tony could never escape the reach of the past or the allure of the possible futures.

Steve looked away from Tony. Tony steeled himself for what he knew was coming.

“When I arrived at the future, Tony, you… you gave me a home. You gave me a purpose.”

_But._ There was always a reason Tony wasn’t enough. A reason people wished he was somebody else. There was no reason to make it a harder ordeal for Steve or a longer agony for Tony. Tony had to be the one to fill the silence now and give Steve an easy way out.

“But you’ll have to turn me down.” Steve curled his fists and then nodded once, curtly. “I understand. And I… I was going to tell you the same, Winghead. I don’t want my fate to be foretold by parlor tricks. I want to choose it myself. _Build_ it myself.”

“Winghead?” Steve said. Tony could hear the gears turning inside his head.

“Isn’t that what Iron Man calls you? Must’ve stuck. He talks a lot about you, you know?”

“Oh. Is… is he around? He flew in this direction.”

“Right now? Oh, no. He left a while ago.”

“Is he at the Mansion?” Steve said and crossed his arms.

“You need to talk to him? I can call him. He shouldn’t be far, so he’ll be here in no time.”

“I… need to talk to him too so if it’s not too much bother…”

“It never is. I’ll call him and then I’ll tuck in. I’m exhausted. You can wait here.”

Tony ran into his bedroom hoping this would work, no matter how bad his lies had been. He usually was better at that, but the Curse and everything it had entailed had taken him out of balance. But Iron Man… he’d regain his balance with the armor. With all the ease of years of practice, he put it on. He’d wait a bit, then fly out of the window, go around the block and land on the balcony. Then he’d lie brazenly and pray Steve would believe him.

But he didn’t get the chance. The darkness of the bedroom was flooded with bright red light. The spell. Damn. Agatha Harkness had said it — it’d come back if they didn’t make a decision. He would have thought being turned down was enough, but apparently, the spell had a mind of its own.

The door to his bedroom opened and the light from the living room filled the bedroom. In his mirror, he could see Steve, arms crossed, a frown etched in his face. He didn’t dare turn around.

“Well, the spell has gone haywire. Mr. Stark is going to…” he started but shut his mouth when Steve stomped into his bedroom.

“Open the faceplate.”

Damn. Damn. This wasn’t… something he had ever wanted to happen and especially not this way. He could… fly away. Never see Steve again. Steve wouldn’t talk about his secret, he knew that.

“No. My secret identity… we’ve agreed not to ask about them. You were okay with that.”

Steve got closer to him, still frowning, and put his hand on Iron Man’s cheek.

“I said open the faceplate, _Tony_.”

He knew. Steve knew and what choice did Tony have but to acquiesce to Steve’s will and await judgment? He opened the faceplate, pale as a man facing the noose. Steve didn’t move his hand and looked all over his face, as if it was the first time he had seen it. And maybe it was — he had never seen _Iron Man’s_ face before, after all.

“Why are you…? You’re not angry?”

Steve shrugged. “I know how secret identities work, Shellhead, and what I agreed to.”

“I still… look, I still understand if you don’t… want me. It’s still just a stupid spell.”

Steve put his forehead against Tony’s. Against Iron Man’s.

“I don’t need a spell to know I want you, Iron Man. When you showed up, today, I… knew I couldn’t say yes to Tony Stark, because it’d have been torture.”

“Why? Tony Stark is not that bad of a catch.”

“You figure it out.”

There was only one possible answer to that, but it was more terrifying than being left alone. It was one thing to imagine dating Steve as Tony Stark — hiding the broken pieces of himself inside the armor and offering Steve a dazzling mirage of wealth and charisma instead of the pathetic truth behind the larger-than-life character. Steve deserved that. A good man, a good man with a different past and a different future. Not him. Not all the troubles of Tony Stark and Iron Man, together.

“Here’s a hint,” Steve said, stepping in closer. His hand was so soft despite all his training and all his fighting. He leaned in and kissed Tony’s jaw, just where the faceplate met the uncovered flesh.

“It’s a bad idea.”

“Any kiss worth a damn is worth the trouble,” Steve said, with one of those smiles that weren’t Cap’s high wattage smiles, designed to inspire lesser men. No. It was one of Steve’s, a bit broken but still daring, still confident, and always hopeful.

And he had to kiss… no, he _wanted_ to kiss that smile, so he chose to go for it. Their lips touched and _this_ was magic, this moment between them where they breathed the same air and the blood in their veins called to each other. Steve _knew_ and he didn’t care. He brought Steve closer to him and the thread hummed, tensed, and wrapped around them from head to toe. It was warm, just as warm as Steve’s arms around his waist, so warm he even felt them through the armor. The thread shone brighter and brighter, like a beacon calling them home. And Tony knew it then. Not whether or not they were going to make it, because nobody ever did, or whether they’d bring each other happiness or sorrow because no spell could guarantee that. No. He didn’t know that, but he knew that Steve was worth the uncertainty.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podremix] Any Kiss Worth a Damn](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29285478) by [Cathalinareads (Cathalinaheart)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cathalinaheart/pseuds/Cathalinareads)




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